


First, Last and Always

by thinlizzy2



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Past Incest, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/pseuds/thinlizzy2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through a series of firsts, Jaime discovers how sweet a second love can be.  </p><p>Shameless porny fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First, Last and Always

Jaime first realised what they had on a quiet evening by the fire.

The rabbit Brienne had trapped for them was tender and delicious and the novelty of a full belly kept them both from their accustomed bickering. The nearby stream offered cold clear water with a purity that was almost startling. They both drank deeply, hot and thirsty from the day's travels, and then Brienne tipped some onto her wounded shoulder, hissing at the contact. Jaime watched as she struggled with an injury she couldn't see properly, twisting her neck as she tried to clean all the dirt and muck from the gouge.

"Come here." He hadn't planned to make the offer, but it only seemed natural. "Let me help you."

Amazingly, she came to his side without comment. He dipped a bit of cloth into his cup, squeezed out the dirty water, and then dipped it again. He tried to be gentle as he washed the blood and filth from her, but he was clumsy with his left hand and unsure of how to tend to her; he felt her flinch away as he applied too much pressure. He pulled her back and resumed his efforts, dabbing and wiping until her skin was clean and white around the vicious new scars. Strangely, they looked even more painful and raw against the paleness of her chest. Without thinking he pressed his lips to the place where she was hurt, hoping to take away some of her pain.

Brienne jumped away from him and stared at him in shock. He dropped his gaze and muttered an apology, but when he looked up she was still there and still staring. This time, he met her eyes and saw, to his relief, that there was no anger there. 

_Oh,_ he thought, feeling something familiar and astonishing unfurling in his chest. He remembered angrily starting fights with men who came seeking Cersei's hand, jumping blindly into the bear pit to rescue Brienne. _This. Yes, that makes sense. It's the only thing that does._

His last thought before he captured her lips with his was that it was odd how unsurprised he was.

***

The first time Brienne took him in her mouth, he was stunned at her skill, at the way she knew how to use her tongue and lips and how to wrap her hand around the base of his cock and squeeze until he was gasping and boneless and helpless under her ministrations. He had expected it to be like it had been with Cersei, at the beginning, when everything was new and she needed time to learn what men liked in bed and more time still to accept the idea of doing them. He was not at all prepared for Brienne to know what she was doing, to be _good_ at it even, and in his surprise he was unable to hold back the orgasm that overwhelmed him.

She spat, subtly, into a napkin that she'd had at the ready, and he could tell by her face that she had known in advance that she wouldn't care for the taste.

He knew, of course, that he was being a hypocrite, but that did nothing to stop the swell of jealousy in his belly.

"So is it all a farce?" His voice was angry, demanding, and he could feel her stiffen in anger and surprise as she pulled away from him. "The Maid of Tarth, the virgin untouched? All lies, wench?"

She shrugged, cheeks flaming scarlet. "I never claimed to be untouched. I am a virgin, yes. My maidenhead is unbroken. But I've trained with men and fought with men and lived in a camp full of soldiers, Jaime. A hand is a hand, in the dark, and a mouth is a mouth. It's not uncommon for soldiers to give comfort or release to each other; you know that." She wriggled away from him and his arms felt empty without her. "Or do you think me so hideous that you are the only one who could be willing to stoop to bedding me?"

Angrily, she began to dress, reaching for her trousers as she tugged her tunic on. She stopped only when his unaccustomed apology startled her into inaction.

"It doesn't matter." He vowed to himself that he could make the words a reality. He would find a way past it, for her. "It's just... I want you to be mine." It was an admission he was not prepared to make, but he heard the truth in what he was saying and prayed that she did too. He drew her back to the pillows. "Mine and mine alone."

She was not a woman to be so easily placated. "And what of what _I_ want, Ser Jaime? Can you be mine, despite what came before?"

He studied her face, scarred and damaged, so different from the golden beauty he had beheld in other beds. He looked into her astounding blue eyes. "I believe I can."

***

He panicked the first time he woke up holding her.

In the past, waking up with a woman in his arms had meant that he and Cersei had been dangerously, perhaps fatally, careless. The sun streaming through the curtains only fed his terror - morning already! Would the household already be active? Would he need to go out a window? Terror sparked in his chest at the thought that someone might have already discovered that he had not slept in his own bed last night. He had already thrown back the bed linens and planted his feet on the floor before he remembered.

And exhaled in his relief.

Brienne stirred next to him, her blue eyes blurred with her interrupted sleep. "Do we need to go?". The words were just slightly slurred. Then a sort of sorrowful resignation crept over her features. He understood instantly and hated himself for understanding. "Are you leaving, Jaime?"

"No." He lay back down beside her and pulled the bedspread up to cover them both. He wanted to explain to her that he wasn't just staying because she caught him in the act of escaping, that he really did want to be there. But that would lead to a conversation, and he didn't want that at the moment.

What he wanted right then, more than anything in the world, was to hold her as she slept, her head against his chest, late into the morning and possibly well into the afternoon. Explanations could wait, he realized. They had all the time they could want. There were no husbands to avoid and no fathers to fear. No servants would be coming, who could destroy them both with a malicious word. The joy of that exploded inside of him and he clutched her tightly with the thrill of it all. "No, I'm not. Go back to sleep, love."

***

When Brienne first knelt in front of him, on her knees and elbows with her arse open and his for the taking, Jaime was far too aroused to think rationally. He managed to at least make an attempt to avoid hurting her by using wax from the candles, his saliva and her own slickness to ease the way, but Cersei had never wanted to do what Brienne was suggesting and the newness of it was intoxicating. The tightness of her, the unfamiliar angle and position, the _sounds_ she made when he reached down to rub her clit as she pounded her from behind - it was all glorious madness. It was like a battle when he knew he would win, when every strike was golden and when victory finally came it was all sweetness and delight as he collapsed across her back. They laughed together, exhausted and happy, as his seed dribbled out of her onto the sweaty sheets.

It was only later that it occurred to him to question why she had suggested this strange act, rather than offering him her maidenhead. He wondered at her reluctance there. They had used their mouths and hands to pleasure each other countless times, but they had still not lain together in the traditional way and he couldn't help but ponder the possible reasons. Was she still unsure of him, as she had been with the soldiers before him? It was an ugly thought, but it was followed by an even uglier one. Perhaps she was imagining that he was not Jaime at all, but Renly, and casting herself in role of Loras.

It must have been a mark of how well Brienne was coming to know and tolerate him, that the accusation prompted nothing in her but exasperation. "Ser Jaime," she said, making his title into an affectionate mockery, "I am well aware that you are fertile and there's no reason to assume that I'm not. A bastard is never a good idea in the best of times, and it would be a disaster now. I've seen servant girls get pregnant despite moon tea and men who promised to finish on their backs or breasts instead. We can't take the risk right now; you know that."

She was right and he knew it. He was ready to put aside his suspicions and move on, when he realized the significance of something she had said. They couldn't take this risk _right now_. But what did that mean for the future?

"Tell me, wench," Jaime began, using bravado to cover up his nervousness. "Would you _like_ to have a baby, when all of this is over?"

Her answer seemed to surprise her as much as it did him. "I could..." She bit at her swollen lower lip and he wanted to kiss away the mark her teeth left. "I could want to have _your_ baby, Jaime. Would you want to have more children?"

The idea was dizzying. Children that he could acknowledge as his own, rightful heirs to whatever was his. Children that would grow up calling him father, who he could love openly and without secrecy. 

And the other side of it, children that his enemies would know were his and could try to use against him. The inevitable fear that came with being a father.

He breathed it all in and then gave her the most honest answer he had. "I would want to have children by _you_."

***

Where Cersei had left scratches on him, Brienne left bruises.

Brienne's nails were blunt but her arms were powerful and her grip on his shoulders was intense. When she locked her legs around his waist, the pressure was a delicious combination of pain and pleasure. Her heels dug into his back when he rutted against her, in a way that was certain to leave marks in the morning. And when he slid his tongue into her, using the flexible muscle to bring her all the pleasure he could, she grabbed at the back of his neck so roughly that he knew there would be ten little shadows there for days to come.

Normally he cherished the marks they left on each other. They were like brands on livestock, and they appealed to the most primal part of him. _No_ , they said. _This is mine, and you may not touch._ Brienne might snarl at men and maids who whispered when they saw the bite marks he left on her neck and throat but Jaime merely gloried in what they signified. Usually.

That morning, however, he was annoyed. 

"By the Gods, wench," he groused, tugging at his collar trying to hide the signs of the night before. "What is your father going to think of me?" 

Brienne rolled her eyes. "All of the seven kingdoms know that we've traveled together, fought together and lived together, Jaime. My father is no stranger to what a man and a maid can do together in bed with no exchange of cloaks between them, and Tarth may be isolated but I'm fairly certain rumours must have reached him by now. A man does not have a daughter known as the Kingslayer's whore without learning of it. I'm sure he's drawn his own conclusions by now."

She was probably right, but Jaime was still worried. He had never done this before, approached a father to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. It had never even been a possibility before. He could hope, of course, that Selwyn of Tarth would respond with slightly less horror to the prospect than Tywin Lannister would have done, but not if he walked in boldly advertising nights of carnality with the man's only living child.

It went better than he had expected. Selwyn had run to embrace Brienne, and it was clear that whatever tales he had heard had done nothing to lessen his love for his daughter. The pair of them walked through Evenstar Hall's rustic little gardens with obvious ease in each other's company, deep in conversation of which Jaime, trailing behind them, only caught snatches. He didn't mind that in the least. Rather, he was fascinated to see what this looked like, open and unembarrassed affection between a father and child. His own father had never looked at him with half the fondness that he saw in Lord Selwyn's eyes when he beheld Brienne, and his relationship with his own children was such a complicated mess. This was different and beautiful, and he ached for it.

But he could not remain a passive observer forever. He realized that Selwyn knew exactly why Jaime had come when he suggested Brienne go to the stables to look at his new horses, a flimsy pretext if he'd ever heard one. But Brienne understood the need for the men to have a moment alone as much as anyone there and so squeezed Jaime's hand once - a comfort he desperately needed - before disappearing down the pathway and leaving him alone with the Lord of Tarth.

That lord regarded him through narrowed eyes. "I shan't force her to have you if she doesn't want it," Selwyn said bluntly. "Regardless of what's been between you in the past. You may have seduced her, but you haven't trapped her. Know that."

Jaime's face burned, but he forced himself to speak softly. "She wants it. We've discussed it before." He couldn't help letting a bit of his anger show through. "This is just a formality."

Selwyn gave a little snort. "You've seen Evenfall Hall now. We love it here, her and I, but you've lived in far grander places than Tarth. Is it worth your troth?"

Jaime had barely noticed his surroundings; his only priority was Brienne. " _She_ is."

Selwyn smiled a little, softening ever so slightly. "Ser Jaime, I will be direct. I've always been the sort to judge a man by his actions. But your actions? They make no sense. You have fathered three bastards by your own sister. You have betrayed your oaths. You have murdered a king. These are hard things for a father to accept when a man asks to marry his beloved daughter."

Dread seized at Jaime's heart. How could he argue with that? "I know it," he admitted. 

"But you have saved her. You've put your life at risk, many times, for the sake of Brienne. If you were only the things you are known for, then you would never have done that." Selwyn shrugged helplessly. "So I must take you at your word instead. Do you love my daughter enough to marry her and stay with her always, despite the opportunities that may come to you if Queen Sansa decides to look favorably upon the Lannisters again? I will not consent to Brienne's bed being a place for you to hide while you wait out your disgrace. Do you love her enough to stay faithful to her forever?"

"I do." Jaime was desperate to be believed. "I swear I do."

Brienne's father stared at him like he was trying to see into his very soul. "How can you be so certain?"

The answer came to him unbidden, as if he had known it all along. "I know I love Brienne because I know what love feels like. I have felt it before. And I know I will love her forever, because _this_ love is unlike any that I have known before it."

Slowly, Lord Selwyn grinned. "Well then. Jaime Lannister, you have my blessing to make a willing wife of Brienne of Tarth." He laughed out loud. "I suppose there must be a first time for everything!"


End file.
